A Hunter's Journey
by Blastwave451
Summary: A young Night Elf hunter travels to the eastern kingdom. There he finds answers, love, and a plot to overthrow the alliance itself...
1. Tragedy

The forest of Ashenvale echoed with a chorus of the diverse wildlife. As the setting sun shined brightly through the small gaps between the large, leaf-covered trees. A lone wolf cautiously lowered it's head to a stream, and lapped up the clear water calmly. It's tail, hanging between it's legs, and the fur on it's back lying flat, revealed the creature's unawareness, of the two Night Elves hiding, crouched in a grouping of bushes across the stream. One was very old. His reddish face wrinkled slightly, and his gray hair hanging far below his shoulders. The other one was merely a child, his hair short, and his skin pale blue.

"Be very still…" The older one advised in barely a whisper. "Ghostpaw wolves' senses are incredibly keen. Only the water masks our scent.

The young elf nodded slightly, and continued to look on with wide yellow eyes. As he slowly moved one of his feet forward, it caught itself under a root and the young elf lost his balance, and he fell forward.

The wolf's white fur immediately shot up in surprise and anger, at the sudden interruption. It's lips pulled back, revealing two rows of large pointed teeth that seemed more than able to rip the boy to shreds. Just as the growling wolf looked ready to charge, the older Night Elf stood up out of the bushes, with an arrow aimed at the animal's head. The creature, although far from cowardly, knew it had lost it's advantage, and quickly dashed into the woods.

The older elf quickly helped the younger elf up. "Are you alright, Eamden?"

"Yeah." he said, his face red in embarrassment . "…I'm sorry for causing that wolf to see us, Aneren."

Aneren surprised Eamden with a forgiving pat on the shoulder. "It is not important. Your safety on the other hand, is."

Eamden slowly felt his embarrassment fade. "I wish I was as strong as you, Aneren."

The older elf smiled. "Be patient Eamden, your day will come. You show much promise for one who's journey has only just begun. You will become a great hunter….One day."

The young elf couldn't stop himself from letting loose a wide grin. "Really?" His imagination wandered as he tried to picture what he'd look like when he would become a hunter.

"Oh, yes." Aneren said. "Greater than Silmarith Moonbreeze, himself."

Eamden idolized the famous hunter who led many victories for the Alliance, before his presumed death on the battlefield. Most believe his body was buried in the hills of ashen vale, but a few say he still lives, wandering the barren's after his final battle.

The young elf was about to ask something, but Aneren started in first. "The sun is beginning to set. Your mother will begin to worry if you don't return home."

"Okay…" Eamden said, a little disappointed by how fast the time seemed to disappear right in front of him. He then gave a mischievous grin. "Race ya!" he said quickly, before bolting off in the direction his home in Astraanar. After a few seconds of furious sprinting, Eamden looked behind him to see if the old elf had even decided to give chase. He saw no sign of him.

"You're slower than a one-legged ogre!" Aneren shouted from in front of him, running in long fluid motions.

"Hey, no fair!…Wait up!" the small elf called, indignantly.

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As the two night elves reached Eamden's home near Astranaar, The young elf, Eamden, was completely out of breath. He was breathing so hard he thought his lungs would pop. Aneren on the other hand didn't seem to have broken a sweat. Eamden would have been amazed by this if he wasn't already feeling like he was going to collapse.

"Let's agree on a tie." Aneren said to the worn out Eamden, who nodded in agreement, even though they both knew Aneren was twenty paces ahead the entire time.

"Farewell, Eamden. I will return tomorrow, and show you more of the forest."

The young elf, immediately perked up upon hearing this. "Okay!"

Eamden's father died, in service of the Alliance, when he was just born. Leaving Aneren to watch over him and guide him. And just as Aneren watches over him like a son, Eamden loves Aneren like a father.

Upon entering his home, he was taken by surprise by the delicious aroma coming from the table. A freshly caught, and cooked slitherskin mackerel was lying on a plate on the table. It looked like it had been taken off the fireplace no more than five minutes ago. Eamden's mouth watered. He looked around the room to make sure no one was watching, and then slowly reached out to taste the food. Just a small bite. No one would notice it.

"Care to wait until I set the table?" His mother said, spying on him from the stair's. She laughed as her son, caught red handed, immediately attempted to make it look as if he had never even seen the cooked mackerel.

"Uh,.. Hello Mother!" He said, sheepishly. "Just, uh, cleaning off the table!"

His mother laughed even harder this time. "It's alright, Eamden. Just wash up and I'll finish setting the table."

Without a word, the boy immediately raced up the stairs, past his mother, who sighed and gave him a look of affection.

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After his supper, Eamden changed into his sleeping clothes, and his mother saw him off to bed, with a kiss on the forehead. "Goodnight, Eamden."

"Goodnight mother." he replied, sleepily, Quietly crawling into bed.

That night he dreamed he was standing in the middle of a blazing desert, after a colossal battle. Blood coated weapons lay next to splintered shields, and battered armor. The bodies lying before him were of Night Elf and Orc. Countless numbers of each were strewn across the field, while large buzzards picked at their remain with their featherless heads. Sitting far away, across, from him was a Ghostpaw wolf. It's body relaxed, and it's golden eyes piercing straight through him. The same fear that struck Eamden earlier that day, was attacking him once again. Eamden tried to run away, but to his horror, felt the rock-solid grip of hands holding his feet in place. He looked down to see the previously dead bodies suddenly come back to life. He screamed, and thrashed, desperately trying to break free from the many hands the slowly began to pull him down towards them. The bodies soon began to swarm on top of him, and all he could see was the white wolf, unmoving and silent….

Eamden woke from his nightmare with a scream as his mother shook him violently out of his dream. "Eamden, we have to leave now!" She said, her eyes filled with fear.

"What's wrong?" he said.

"There's no time! We have to leave now!" She snapped. She pulled him out of bed, and carried him down the stairs.

"I'm scared…" Eamden whispered to his mother. She held him even tighter and was about to open the door when all of a sudden, noises were heard on the other side. They were not the voices of his kin, they were too deep and rough.

His mother spun around immediately and ran back up the stairs, back to Eamden's room. She carried him to a window in the back of the house, and slowly began lowering him.

"What are you doing, mother?" He asked, his throat tightened in fear.

She looked at him, her eyes, wet with tears. "I want you to find Aneren, and stay with him. Okay?"

The young Night Elf began to sob. "Where are you going?! Don't leave me!" He pleaded.

"I'm sorry." She said, tears rolling smoothly down her cheeks. "Promise me you won't look back…"

Eamden couldn't answer. His crying became even louder, and more ragged.

"I love you…" She whispered. With said she let go of her child. As she saw him land in the grass, she heard the door getting kicked in. She spun around quickly and moved to intercept the intruders from discovering her son, out the window.

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Eamden slowly picked himself up, and wiped away his tears. Remembering what his mother had said, he began to run, and find Aneren. But he took no more than two steps before he heard his mother cry out in pain. His mind told him to run, but his body began to sneak around the house, and hide behind a couple of old barrels. He watched as two Orc's dragged his mother's limp form outside in front of the house. They set her down in front of another Orc, clad completely in dark armor. The Orc removed his helmet to reveal an olive colored face, and a pair of blood red eyes. He looked down at the stunned Night Elf with a feeling of cold disgust, and no mercy. In one resolute motion, the Orc unsheathed a small sword, and ran her through with it. She cried out in pain, and then fell over, unmoving, as a pool of blood seeped into the ground.

"NO!" he cried out suddenly, his face streaked with dirt and tears. The three orcs quickly took notice and unsheathed large, cruel looking axes. Eamden's head was cluttered with emotions and thoughts, but all he hear was his mother telling him to find Aneren.

"Find Aneren." He whispered, just before suddenly dashing to the left of the Orcs, and running for the bridge.

"Kill him." the Orc leader commanded to the two other warriors. They immediately ran after the boy like uncaged beasts hoping to rip there prey limb from limb. Soon more Orcs appeared out of the shadow's and approached their leader.

"Astranaar is a short distance down this path. They still don't know of out presence. What shall we do?"

"Burn everything. Leave no survivors…"

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Eamden ran through the clearing as fast as he could. He couldn't hear anything with the blood pumping through his long pointed ears, and he dared not look behind him, in case he tripped. His legs ached with each step, but he couldn't stop now. Aneren's camp was just through the these trees. Just as the Elf thought he was home free, he felt a large arm pick him up roughly and slam him down hard into the ground. The breath was knocked out of him, and he struggled for air as one of the two Orcs raised his axe to quickly silence the young elf. Eamden could see it was the end. He closed his eyes and thought of happier times, waiting for the axe blade to finish him off. It never came.

As Eamden slowly opened his eye, he looked, stunned, at the lifeless body of the Orc before him. Three elven arrows were embedded in his chest, while the other Orc was desperately trying to fend off Aneren's lightning quick dagger thrusts. The old elf easily ducked under a clumsy swing of the Orc's axe, and then in one motion he jumped forward and cut a deep slice in to the Orc's throat. The large creature fell to the ground, while hot blood spurted from his mortal wound.

Aneren ran over to Eamden and helped him to his feet. "Are you alright?"

Eamden nodded slightly, not able to look Aneren in the eye. "Yeah."

"Where's your mother? Is she alright?" He asked.

"No." the young Night Elf choked out, suddenly feeling a fresh wave of tears slide down his face. "She's gone…."

Aneren picked the child up and walked mournfully back towards his camp. He would be on his guard tonight.

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Hope you enjoyed the chapter, i'll try to update sooner or later. If you want to leave a review, you're more than welcome. i promise to reply to any reviews or emails.


	2. Answers

Eamden woke up wearily in the middle of Aneren's camp. It was nothing small area cut out from the surrounding foliage. A testament to his unity with nature, and his divergence from society.

As Eamden stood up, he saw a red apple delicately placed on a flat stone. The word "EAT" scratched into the dirt next to it. With silent thanks to Aneren, the young Night Elf picked it up, and took a large bite out of it, savoring the fruits sweet taste. After finishing his breakfast, he sat quietly and waited a few more minutes before Aneren finally appeared silently from behind the brush, his brow creased in worry.

The two Elves sat quietly until Eamden tried to break the uncomfortable silence. "Thank you for breakfast." He said, respectful to his elder.

Aneren snapped out of his trance like thought, and smiled warmly. "Your thanks are appreciated, young one."

Eamden swallowed the lump in his throat. "Is my mom?.." he said, each word hurting more than the last.

Aneren sighed, knowing he couldn't lie to him. "Yes, she has passed on."

The young elf felt tears slowly creep up. He wouldn't let himself cry, and fought them back fiercely.

"Do not weep for her, Eamden. Your mother has lived with virtue and compassion. It is tragic how she lost her life, but I know in my heart that she's watching over you right now. To see you mourn her death is the worst pain of all."

Eamden attempted to sit stand up, but his legs couldn't support him, and he fell, raggedly, back to the ground. His throbbing head felt twice as large as before.

Aneren snapped to his feet, and helped Eamden up. "Are you ill?"

"..No, I'm just….I don't know." He said his balance slowly returning. "I just don't know what will happen to me now that I have no home."

Aneren thought deeply, then came his conclusion. "Eamden, there is something I believe you should see. Will you follow me?"

The young elf was puzzled by his request, but nodded, despite the situation. The two of them walked through the woods, observing the beauties of the peaceful forest as they traveled. It was Eamden who still retained his worry, and was cautious with every step.

"What troubles you?" Aneren asked, sensing the young elf's wary behavior.

"Where are the Orcs?" Eamden asked with venom in his words. "There were many the night before."

"I drove them off. They will not return here."

"I hate them." He mumbled. "I wish they were dead.."

The young elf received a stern look from his elder. "Do not harbor such hatred, Eamden, it is a terrible thing to bare. Many bright souls have eroded to darkness because of it.

Eamden immediately felt his anger washed over by a feeling of regret. "I'm sorry..I...I don't know what to think anymore."

"We are all bound together by fate, young one. Orc, human, elf, troll. There is little difference. If one of us is extinguished, we are all effected. A true hunter is not one who is ruled by his hatred for others, but one who understands the balance of all life and chooses to maintain it, and protect it from those who would cause it harm." Aneren lowered himself down to Eamden's level and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Are you willing to learn all I have to teach?"

The young elf nodded without a second thought.

Then we are close.

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Eamden followed Aneren to a tall waterfall. The very size of it was daunting to the young elf. Aneren, on the other hand didn't think twice as he waded through the clear water, and then passsed through the waterfall like he would a curtain.

Eamden stood nervously on the shore for a few moments before finally deciding to follow him. The young elf took a few hesitant steps into the freezing water, before completely submerging himself. He slipped under the raging waterfall as quickly as he could, and found himself sitting in a large cave. Eamden's acute, yellow eyes, pierced the pitch black darkness like an arrow. It was simple to pick out Aneren's ruddy colored skin from the damp gray rocks surrounding them. Acknowledging Eamden's presence the old elf beckoned him to follow, as he made his way down the only noticeable route in the cave.

Eamden quickly picked himself up, and followed behind him. The mysterious cave only adding to his confusion. He walked quietly through each twist and turn of the cave, believing that there was no end in sight, until Aneren stopped suddenly in front of him. Eamden looked in front of him to see that the cave was blocked off by a large door, carved into the stone. The door was streaked with thick roots, and elegant markings could be seen underneath. A small hole in the center remained untouched by the plants or the patterns on the door. Eamden looked up questioningly to Aneren, who responded by pulling out a small key from his pocket. He inserted it into the door, and twisted it in two full circles. The dormant slab of stone, suddenly sprung to life, and by some unseen force was torn away from the roots, and pulled off to one side of the doorway. Light spilled into the passageway, fending off the darkness. Aneren stepped aside, and urged Eamden in front of him.

The young elf walked through the door, and was amazed by the sight before him. He stepped into a circular room, with a roof that stretched all the way to the surface, letting the sun fill the room with light and warmth. The ground was covered in thick, green grass, while the walls were a web of roots, and vines, spotted with white flowers. At the far end were two decorated mounds of dirt. One looked old, and was covered with much vegetation, while the one beside it was fresh.

"What is this place?" Eamden asked, confused by the existence of this haven.

Aneren stepped into the light, and stood proudly. "This is your father's resting place, Eamden."

Eamden looked at Aneren in disbelief. "It can't be." He said, realizing what was buried under the old mound of dirt. "My father died before I even knew him!"

Aneren knelt down to Eamden's level, and put a hand on his shoulder. "That is not true, Eamden. You've known of your father, even when you could not see it."

"What are you talking about?!" Eamden said, frustrated by how much he apparently did not know. "You're not making any sense!"

"Eamden. Your father is Silmarith Moonbreeze…"

The last few words hit Eamden harder than he could imagine. They seemed almost unbelievable, like the very fact of it was not possible. Eamden's father was the great Alliance General.

"Let me explain." said Aneren, who knew that the elf deserved to know the truth. "I was not always a hermit, Eamden. I used to be one of the best hunters the Alliance had to offer. I had taken your father under my tutelage, when he was but a few years older than you, and trained him to be as adept as I would have been. His power was quickly recognized, and with my close advisement, we led great armies to defend our borders against the Horde."

Aneren motioned towards Silmarith's grave. "Your father fell deeply in love with your mother. Overtime she became pregnant with you, and your father was ready to settle down and raise a family, but he was called back into battle to fight for the Alliance once more. An army of Orcs and Trolls, led by a savage warrior named Cyshnak AxeFury, was raiding small Alliance towns, and needed to be stopped before he could do further damage. One last time your father wielded his bow into battle. We fought most of his forces, but your father knew that AxeFury would be back with greater numbers if he wasn't stopped now. We chased him across the Great Sea, and thought we had trapped him in the Barrens. But AxeFury was clever. He had attacked the towns as bait, to lure us away from our home, and into a trap. Our men were brave and well trained, but there were simply too many of them. Your father and Cyshnak, fought each other, but in the end your father was defeated. You were born the very next day."

Eamden shuddered at the thought of Orcs. His last encounter still burning the back of his mind. "Why didn't my mother tell me?"

"She was doing what she thought was best. She did not want you to grow up with vengeance in your heart. The knowledge of your father would have stayed hidden for much longer had it not been for her passing."

Eamden head hurt from the different thoughts that stormed in his head. Silmarith Moonbreeze, one of the greatest hunter's of his time, was his father. His blood ran in Eamden's veins as much as his desire to be a hunter ran through his mind. Aneren stood up and walked over to an old wooden chest, sitting off to one side.

"I..I want to be a hunter, like my father." Eamden said.

Aneren inspected him as if he'd never seen him in his life. "I was going to wait until you were much older, but because of the circumstances, I will begin your training early. I must warn you though. Do not take this lightly. The training you will face will be grueling, and life threatening."

Eamden hesitated for only a moment before he steeled himself, ferociously. "I am ready."

"Good." Aneren said. He then opened up the chest, and revealed the contents inside. There was armor weapons and money. All organized delicately inside the case. "Your training begins tonight."

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Eamden stood under the full moon. inside a circular arena scratched in the dirt. He held a wooden staff in his hand. On the other side of the makeshift arena was Aneren, holding another staff, but this one was longer, because of Aneren's larger size.

"Let us begin the lesson." Aneren said. "Although a hunter cannot hope to best an opponent such as a warrior or rouge in melee combat, it is still very important. A hunter can become adept at this, but remember that it should be your last resort when in a fight.

Eamden nodded his understanding.

"Good." Aneren said with brevity. "We'll begin with simple combination strikes." He demonstrated this to his apprentice, with balance and power. Each swing whistled faintly as the staff was whipped through the air. Eamden observed closely and began to mimic his movements.

"Very good, Eamden." Aneren commented. "Try it again, and keep your footing."

The young elf progressed quickly in only a few hours. Understanding each stance and swing shown to him. By the time the sun spilled over the far horizon, he was streaked with dirt and sweat, And every part of his body ached.

"Well done, Eamden. You may rest. Then I will begin to teach you the more vital skills of a hunter."

Relieved, Eamden could only nod, as he was too winded to speak. Handing the staff to his teacher, he slowly walked back to his mentor's camp. The only thought he could focus on was rest.

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Eamden found himself in his previous dream. A war-torn desert, scattered with the remains of two cataclysmic forces. Before he could take a breath, he felt a cold familiar sensation creep up his spine, as the dead warriors, once again curled their rotted, skeletal fingers around his legs and slowly began to pull him downward. Eamden fought his panic, and snatched up a rusted sword that was stabbed into the dry dirt. He slashed downward at one of the hands, and sliced clean through the bone and flesh. He continued to hack at his undead assailants, but to his horror, realized that each limb he cut through, more rose up to take it's place. Soon he was overwhelmed by the numbers, and was once again slowly being pulled down by the dead. Just as Eamden thought it was hopeless, he heard a loud howl, and it was followed by a set of jaws clamping tightly on his shirt collar. The unknown force furiously pulled him back into the light, as He sliced quickly at the few limbs still clutching his ankles. He lied back as a cooling sense of relief swept over him. The sunlight caused him to go blind for a few moments before an unseen force covered over the harsh light. He opened his eyes to see a wolf looking down at him. It's face and body was a patchwork of old scars that had long since healed, and a white coat of fur shone through the areas that were unscathed. Although the beast looked fierce, it gazed at him with friendly eyes. As Eamden got to his feet, he realized that the desert that had been littered with bodies and weapons only a few seconds ago was now completely empty, as if nothing the battle had never taken place. Only Eamden and his companion remained.

Eamden looked down at the old wolf, and his stare was met with a gentle gaze present only in the wisest of elders. The creature's golden eyes felt like it was staring into his very soul, Eamden felt uncomfortable by it, but didn't dare look away. At that very moment a voice materialized in his mind.

"_Eamden…"_ A man's voice echoed through his mind in a whisper. _"Wake up, my Son…"_

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Eamden shot up out of his dream, breathing heavily and, his mind racing. "Silmarith?….Father?"

"Sleep well?" Aneren asked, perched a few feet away.

"Uh, yeah." Eamden said quickly trying to cover up his minor outburst. "How long did I sleep for?"

"Long enough." his elder concluded, as he handed Eamden a pair of cracked leather boots. "Follow me. Your archery training begins now."

"Ok, what do I shoot?" Asked, his interest growing in the traditional hunter weapon. Aneren smiled.

"I am pleased by your eagerness to learn, but it is traditional for an apprentice to craft his first bow, before he learns to use it. I'll help you collect the necessary materials, but we must be quick. The trail is a difficult one and teaming with wild animals at nightfall."

Eamden merely shrugged, unsurprised. He got to his feet, and jogged to catch up to Aneren, who had already begun to make his way through the surrounding foliage. As he fell in behind the master hunter, Eamden still thought about the man's voice, and wondered if he was just a creation of his imagination, or if it was something much more…

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Thanks for reading, you can review if you like. It helps me write faster :)


	3. Companion

Thanks for the reviews RDF-73, and BenderBot2579! They really helped me continue the story.

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It was cold this morning, something very rare in the forests of Ashenvale. A chilling fog rolled lazily across the forest floor, as Aneren watched his apprentice closely.

"Try again." He said. "Keep your elbow up."

Eamden, wearing archery training gloves, picked up another arrow, and lined it up in his newly crafted yew bow. He aimed carefully at a circle carved into an unusually large, dead tree that sat in front him. After a few moments he loosed the arrow, and watched it go wide and off into the woods. Eamden sighed. He'd lost count of how many times he missed.

"Again." Aneren said patiently. "You must _Feel _the bow, Eamden. Understand it's properties and limits."

The young elf fed yet another arrow into his bow, remembering what Aneren told him. The bow creaked slightly as he smoothly pulled back arrow. He held his breath, and then finally let go. Eamden first thought this arrow would be like the rest, but it flew true and buried itself deep into the tree with a powerful thud. It wasn't spot on, but definitely an improvement.

"See? Much better." Aneren commented. "Keep going."

Eamden nodded. The two night elves had been sleeping in the forest, for the past three days. Their time spent here had been uneventful, aside from the yew bow Eamden made. As the sun began to creep close into the horizon, Eamden's abilities had increased greatly. Each of his white feathered arrows were grouped closely in the target, and Aneren nodded with a smile.

"Very good!" Aneren praised. "You're a natural, just like your father."

Eamden's tired expression lit up, feeling reassured by his praise. "Thanks." He said through weary breathes.

"Now let's see if your ready to take the next step." He gently took the bow from Eamden and positioned a fresh arrow into it. He drew back the wooden arrow with expert technique, and surprised his apprentice, as a white magic, lively sprung from his finger tips, bounded across the arrow, and converged at the tip. After the last of the light wound itself around the arrow's head, Aneren loosed the bright object. With white sparks trailing behind it, the light-tipped arrow collided directly into the center of the target. The burning tip erupted in an explosion of, nearly blinding, white fire. Eamden was forced to shield his eyes from the glaring rays. As the light faded away, Eamden looked back to see the results. The arrow burned a large, charred hole straight through the dead tree's trunk, which was big enough for Eamden to fit inside.

"How did you do that?!" Eamden gasped, obviously never witnessing magic before. Aneren walked over and handed Eamden his bow back.

"Most beings in this world, including night elves, can learn to use magic. Powerful users, such as mages and druids, can easily conjure spells, and hurl them at their enemies. Hunters are different. Although we can call forth magic, we are not as adept at it. We imbue our arrows with magic and fire them at our opponents. What I showed you was a simple, but formidable Arcane spell. Would you like to learn it?"

"Yes!" Eamden said, enthused by this alien source of power. He placed a fresh arrow in and waited diligently for Aneren's instruction.

"Aim, Hold." Aneren told Eamden. "Magic does not obey, strength, stamina, or agility. But _mind._ A strong, and sharp intellect can conjure magic the easiest. Your mind is strong, Eamden, I know this. You have the capacity to summon, and command it."

Eamden's grip on the arrow faltered slightly. "How do I think, to conjure magic?"

"Don't just think. Believe. Know in every part of your being that there is a power in you that will spring forth the instant you call it. Believe, and it will work."

Eamden closed his eyes and forced his mind to focus, with all it's might, on releasing this hidden power. He tried for as long as he could hold the arrow back, but there was still a small sliver of doubt in the back of his mind. Doubt that such tremendous power lay bottled up in a creature as trivial as himself. He could no longer hold on, and loosed the un-altered arrow. It whistled through the hole Aneren created and off into the woods. Aneren was about to say something, but he was cut off mid-word by a furious rumble that rippled through the sky, followed by a heavy rain that showered on top of them. What had started as a quiet, calm day, suddenly transformed into loud, rainy darkness.

"Alright, Eamden. Pack up and head back to camp. I'll be along in a few moments, with dinner."

Eamden nodded and quickly packed up his bow and arrows, along with the few supplies they brought along. He quickly ran down the trail they had taken to the shooting range, and after a few minutes of running in the cold rain, Eamden returned to the makeshift camp, he and Aneren had set up. It was very basic, but it looked very welcoming with the rain barraging him.

"At least it's under a tree." He thought. "I'll be able to make a fire and dry off…."

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As Aneren approached the camp, two dead hares in hand, He noticed right off that Eamden had taken the liberty off starting a fire, and changing his clothes so as not to get sick. He dropped the hares next to the blazing fire, and took a seat close to the fire, trying to dry off his clothing. For what seemed like hours, the two night elves sat, absorbed by the bright, dancing flame whipping from side to side. Around them, the rain poured harder than ever.

"Don't hunters normally have beasts that follow them into battle?" Eamden asked, finally picking his head up to look at Aneren.

"Yes." Aneren replied. "The hunter's closest and most loyal friend is the creature he tames."

"What creature did you choose?" Eamden pried.

"A hunter doesn't choose his animal, but really the animal chooses the hunter." The wise elf said. "Do you understand what I mean?"

"I think so…." Eamden replied, indifferently. "How long will it be until I'm allowed to search for my creature?"

"Whenever you want." Aneren answered simply.

The old elf received a very confused look from his apprentice. "What do you mean?" Eamden said, unsure if he his elder correctly.

"Every hunter's apprentice, including your father, learned from a master, until they believed themselves to be ready for full training. To prove this they had to complete a rite of passage. They would go out into the wilderness, alone, and armed only with their weapons and their knowledge. When they returned they would have to produce a tamed beast to their teacher. This animal would become their life-long ally, and also serve as proof that they are resourceful, and skillful enough for more challenging techniques and powers. The first night elf hunters did it this way thousands of years ago, and so will the last."

"Do you think I'm ready?" asked the young apprentice.

"I cannot tell you, Eamden. If you wish to become a hunter then you must know when the odds are against you." Aneren said, straight-faced. "All I can say is that this is a very dangerous trial, and should not be taken lightly. It pains me to say this, but there is a large chance you might not come back alive."

Eamden visibly swallowed, but then steeled himself. "In a week. I want to take the rite of passage in a week."

Aneren nodded respectfully, knowing it was his choice, and his alone. "Alright. In a week then."

"A week." Eamden thought. "I'll be ready by then." He could feel a cold fear creep up his gut, as he remembered what Aneren told him, but quickly stifled it. He would not give in to his fear, not now, not in a week. Never again.

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Every day for the past week Eamden had adhered to a strict routine. _Get up at sunrise, Eat,_

_Practice, Practice, Practice, until sunset. Eat, then sleep._ The work was rigorous at times, but it had more than paid off. His tracking skills were much more refined, his close combat skills, although not his specialty, were coming along, and his marksmanship was "Excellent" by Aneren's opinion. "Strikingly similar to your father's style." He had commented. Eamden was still frustrated that he could not conjure the arcane shot Aneren showed him, but his teacher reassured him it was only a matter of time.

Eamden said his farewells to his teacher, and walked off east, into the woods, carrying only what he was allowed to bring. His bow and 20 arrows, an axe and a skinning knife Aneren gave him. It was early in the morning when he had left, but now the sun was beginning to set, and the larger, more dangerous creatures would emerge to search for food. He decided to prepare to himself to search for an animal, and if it called for it, defend himself from being something's next meal…

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Light footed, Eamden weaved in between the large trees, and through the patches of moonlight that shone through the thick forest canopy. He was following the freshly made tracks of a young nightsaber. Judging by the size of the tracks, it was no larger than a cub. After a few more minutes of closely trailing the prints, a purring sound came too his ears. He quickly found the source of the noise, and quietly closed in on it. His search brought him to his quarry, a small nightsaber, purring loudly, and curiously swatting at the moths lazily fluttering in the rays of moonlight. The cub had a nightsaber's black pelt, and white chest, along with white, and black stripes. Further proving the cub's infancy was the short length of it's fangs. Eamden would have thought it was cute, if he wasn't in the middle of the woods at night. Taking a deep breath, he pulled out a strip of meat from his pocket, and walked calmly out in front of the feline. It's relaxed, and playful posture, quickly froze, It's amber eyes wide in fear. Eamden held out the treat, and watched, relieved, as the young nightsaber cautiously approached him, drawn to the scent of the meat. Eamden felt the animal press it's muzzle into his gloved palm, and gently take the treat. While the creature ate, Eamden reached forward with his other hand to pet it's flank, but as his hand came within inches of it's body, a roar tore through the forest, followed by a large nightsaber bursting through the cover of the trees.

Eamden dove back, and narrowly missed being sliced in half by feline's razor-sharp claws. He quickly pulled out his bow and an arrow, and aimed it at the adult nightsaber, standing between him and the cub. Eamden attempted to conjure an arcane spell, but like the rest of his attempts, he fell short. The arrow was deadly enough, and he felt the urge to kill the nightsaber he assumed was the parent, but he wouldn't knowingly rob the cub of his mother, or father, Just like the orc did to him.

After a few tense moments, the nightsaber rounded on it's cub, and picked it up by the scruff of it's neck. And in a flash it disappeared back into the darkness, leaving Eamden, bow in hand, alone in the moonlight.

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Eamden walked back to his camp, in defeat. The blood was still pumping in his ears from his near fatal encounter with the nightsaber. He would have to wait until tomorrow night before he could go out searching again. His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by an ear piercing howl. It was not one of anger or calling, but of pain. He re-inserted the arrow into his bow and stalked up the hill and towards this new source, for it might be a second chance to make up for his failure. The source of the cry was a female ghostpaw wolf who now lay dead at the hands of three satyr. Eamden had never seen one in person, but only in stories of their cruelty and corruption. They had humanoid features, aside from their cloven hoofed feet, long tails, wicked horns, and thick, matted, red fur. They each stood at least 7 feet tall, and were incredibly strong looking. They spoke to each other in a language that he didn't understand, but it sounded ugly, and guttural, like something was slowly chipping away his sanity. He was about to sneak off in the other direction, for there was nothing more he could do, but something small and white caught his eye as he turned his head. Like déjà vu, the parent was found protecting it's young, but sadly in this case the parent died trying to keep it's newborn safe. In the grasp of one of the satyr was a small wolf pup. The scared creature's whimpering could be heard all the way to where Eamden was hiding. While the other two satyr began to feast on the dead wolf's flesh, the third strolled closer to the elf, unaware that he was hiding in the brush. He held the small pup up, as if to get a better look at it, and then said something in it's coarse language to the others, which was met by harsh laughter. The satyr then moved to bring the wolf pup to it's gaping, fanged mouth.

In that split second Eamden knew it was now or never. He shot up from his crouched position, arrow pulled back. A burning light shot forth into the arrow tip, and he loosed it all in one motion. His target never had a chance, as the magic imbued arrow sliced into the satyr's neck, burning it's flesh. The creature screeched in white hot pain, before falling back, dead. In a flash Eamden ran out of cover, scooped the pup up, and retreated into the woods. He could already hear the threat's and curses of the other two satyr as they gave chase. Eamden felt the small creature struggling to free itself from his grasp, but he held on to it tight. After gaining enough distance the young elf Jumped away to the side, and hid under a rocky outcropping. He breathed heavily as he heard the two pursuers passed above him. After a few tense moments he revealed himself from hiding. Remembering the small, biting figure in his arms, Eamden held the pup up to get a better look at it. It's fur was a glowing white, and it's eyes were yellow, and piercing. And, finally it wasn't an it, it was a _he_, for obvious reasons. Finishing his inspection, he tucked the now passive form under his arm, and continued his trek back to camp.

"Time to get some sleep." Eamden concluded. "I'll travel back home in the morning, when it's safe."

As he walked across forest floor and then at his new companion he couldn't help, but smile. If his father could see him now, he knew he would be proud. His path was set in front of him and all he had to do was follow it.

His thoughts came back to reality as the pup's stomach whined loudly. Eamden reached into his pocket and fed one of his treats to his little friend, who snapped up the food in his jaws in less than a second.

"I'm Eamden.." The young hunter smiled. "What's your name?"

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I need a teensy bit of R&R. Reviews are welcome, and they'll help me write faster. If you have suggestions you're more than welcome to email me.


	4. Goodbye

_8 years later…._

A large hulking figure, sprinted heavily through the forest. His gaping mouth breathed heavily, as his plated metal armor, clanged loudly. He burst through the tree line, two cruel looking swords in hand.

"Stop hiding, and I'll make your death painless and honorable!" The warrior shouted in orcish to the surrounding darkness. He was met with a silence that seemed to mock his challenge, causing him to lose his patience even further.

A voice, speaking in Orcish emanated from the shadows. "Your soldiers are being slain as we speak. You are the only one left, commander. My advice to you is to surrender, or leave and never comeback."

The Orc grinned at him, as if the very idea was a joke. "I'll take my chances. But before I do I'll put an end to you. My blades thirst for blood…"

"Then I won't keep them waiting." two white feathered arrows instantly flew from the darkness. The first one glanced off of the orcs broad, metal, chest plate. The second found it's mark in the vulnerable area between his protective armor. He grunted in pain and surprise before, seeing his night elf opponent. He was wearing full leather armor, along with a wide brimmed hat, that concealed his luminous, yellow eyes.

The elf placed another arrow in his bow, and drew a bright fire into it's tip. He fired it quickly while the orc was stunned, and watched with satisfaction as the arrow shattered a large hole into his armor, and pierced deep into his flesh. He immediately secured the bow onto his back and pulled out a large spear. He rushed forward and thrust the point at the orc's bare neck. The orc's supposed vulnerability turned out to be false, as he quickly lashed out with one of his blades, and knocked the spear tip aside. Although the orc was injured, he was far from dead and quickly went on the offensive, ferociously swinging both swords at the elf, who was having no trouble keeping pace.

The elf twisted to avoid getting dismembered by one of the orc's blades, and then replied by striking out with the blunt end of his spear. The warrior brought his other blade up and caught it on his hilt. "You need to learn your place!"

With that said, he head butted the elf, with his armored helm, and rammed his knee into his gut. The elf fell back, stunned. Before he could, the orc was on top of him. One armored hand gripping his neck, and the other holding a sword high above his head. "Any last words?"

The elf chuckled under the heavy weight of his opponent. He then said a few curt words in darnassian, which the orc didn't understand.

A split second later the baffled orc was tackled by a white mass of fur and fangs. A large white wolf, closed his jaws on the arm grasping the weapon. The wolf's powerful bite broke his arm, causing him to drop his sword, in pain. As the elf approached his fallen enemy, He called his companion off, who trotted obediently to his side, but growled quietly, as if to dissuade the orc from trying anything. The elf picked up his spear, and kicked the blade away from the orc's reach. "Yield." he said, evenly.

The orc gritted his teeth, in pain. "Kill me now, night elf. My people do not know the meaning of that word!"

"Well you're going to. You'll pay for your crimes. The sentinels will make sure of that."

The orc growled angrily, as a group of night elves approached him. "Eamden!" An old, hoarse voice called to him. Eamden turned to see his mentor, Aneren, and a small party of sentinels appear from the brush.

"Are you okay?" Aneren asked, in a strained tone.

"Nothing, a warm meal, and some rest can't fix. Rynd, and I had it under control. His wolf, Rynd's, disposition quickly switched from a tense and threatening stance to a happy and playful posture. Eamden lovingly rubbed his wolf's side. After years of training, Rynd had grown into an incredibly strong and brave companion, but the two, having grown up together, formed an inseparable bond with each other. One that made them a dangerous combination of skill and strength.

"I'm more worried about you, Aneren." Eamden replied, concerned. "These last few years haven't been kind to you…"

Aneren wheezed out a few dry, strained coughs. "I'll admit I'm getting older, But this old crow can still flap his wings."

"Well I'd rather you lived to fly another day, than spend it fighting with us." Eamden advised. "The sentinels are more than able to handle things on their own."

"That may be true." A female voice sounded from behind them. "But the sentinels are more than happy to have a pair of skilled hunters like yourselves, give us a hand."

The two Elfs turned to looked at sentinel huntress Gliniel Ragewater. As her soldiers dragged off the resistant Orc.

"Please, huntress." Aneren smiled. "It is our honor to aide the sentinels."

"Believe what you may, but I know that without you warning us of the attack and then leading them off to buy time, they might have very well overtaken us! I thank you for that."

Aneren smiled at her gratitude. "Don't thank me. My apprentice did most of the work. He's the one who put an end to that notorious Orc."

"Ah, of course. With him and his band of raiders out of the way, maybe we can finally bring peace to this old forest…" She dreamt, before snapping back to reality. "As for you, Eamden. Once word of this victory spreads to the people of Darnassus, there will surely be a celebration. I think you've deserved a break. What do you say?"

Eamden who had only been listening, cleared his throat. "Ahh, well…." He looked back at Aneren. "Can I?"

"Of course, you're not a child anymore! Get some food in you, you look half-starved!" The old elf joked, to Eamden's relief.

"Well then, let's get a move on!" The huntress announced, as she and the other sentinels began to depart.

Eamden was about to follow after them, when Aneren's hand caught him on the shoulder. "Eamden, I must speak with you alone when you have the time." He said, in a whisper.

Eamden looked back with suspicion. "Is everything alright?"

The old elf grinned. "Of course, of course, Young one. Please go and enjoy yourself. You've earned it."

Eamden waved farewell, as he ran off to catch up to the sentinels ahead of him. Rynd playfully ran at his side, tongue hanging out, and tail wagging high…

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Eamden had been lying on his back watching the stars for nearly an hour. His head rested gently on Rynd, who's sleeping body rose and fell lightly with each breath. He was still trying to take in the splendor and size of Darnassus. He had seen it many times before, but it was in the day, and normally bustling with people. What he saw was completely different. The normally tranquil, and peaceful, night elf city, seemed to bloom like a flower, when the moon rose over head. There were lights and fireworks, and free food, to which him and Rynd were very grateful. Interrupting his thoughts was Aneren, who softly called him name as he emerged from the shadows. "Eamden…..Eamden"

The young hunter lifted his head in surprise. "Aneren? What is it?"

Eamden got off the ground, waking Rynd who lifted his head and looked curiously at him. The elf motioned his wolf to stay. Rynd dropped his head and resumed his nap.

"Yes?" Eamden said, respectfully.

"What is it you thought about when you decided to be a hunter?" Aneren asked.

Eamden looked at him, confused. "I don't understand."

"What did you want to do, if you became a hunter, like your father?"

"Fight for the alliance. As he did." Eamden answered, simply. "Aneren, what's wrong?"

"I received a letter today." Aneren sighed. "From the Eastern Kingdoms."

Eamden raised his bushy eyebrows in surprise. He didn't much about the Eastern Kingdoms, aside from what Aneren had told him. The thought that someone there still knew where to find Aneren was unusual.

"What did it say?" Eamden asked, very interested. "Who sent it?"

"It Didn't say. Just that it was from the kingdom of Stormwind. Apparently, they haven't met with the same success we've had dealing with bandits and raiders. Our Allies, having sent all able-bodied men and women to fight the horde, have left there defenses sorely lacking, which the various bandits and thieves know all too well."

"Is that all?"

"No, They've asked me to come and help quell the attacks." Aneren wheezed, as if already worn out.

"What will you do?" Eamden asked.

Aneren coughed. "Nothing."

The old elf received a baffled stare from his apprentice. "Why? They need our help."

Aneren sighed. "I'm too old, and not the same adventurer I was when I trained you. You must go in my stead…"

"What!? I've never even been to the Eastern Kingdoms. I can't go alone, you have to come with me…"

"I can't, Eamden." The old elf smiled. "I'm dying. You know it as well as I do."

"Don't say that! You're not dying. Don't say it." Eamden sputtered out weakly.

Aneren smile didn't falter. "My time on this world is waning. Let me spend my last few days in the forests that helped raise me, and you as well."

"I can't." Eamden convinced himself. "I'm not ready for this."

Aneren put his hand on his apprentice's shoulder, and seemed to melt away his fear and uncertainty "You are ready. You've been ready for a very long time."

All Eamden could do was sigh. "What would you have me do?"

"There is a ship leaving for Westfall, tomorrow at sun high. You need to be on it."

"Where will it be?" He asked.

"At Rut'Theran village. Do you know how to get there?"

"Yes." He mumbled, unhappy about the sudden separation of him and his teacher.

"You're father acted the same way when I told him to do something without me." Aneren chuckled, and Eamden perked up. "Your mother loved you, and if your father could see you right now, he would be very proud."

"Thank you, Aneren….For everything..." Eamden said to his mentor.

"You have nothing to thank me for. It was my honor." Aneren replied. "Farewell…"

With his final words said, the old elf began to trudge into the forest. In the direction where no civilization lay. After a few moments he turned around to Eamden who was still watching him go. "I almost forgot. I've left a few parting gifts for you in the chest near you parents graves. They'll help you on your journey."

Without waiting for a response, he spun back around and kept walking, with Eamden looking after him. The young hunter felt sick. He was torn between the duty his mentor left him with and the almost overwhelming feeling of fear and loneliness. For hours he gazed down the path his teacher had walked, hoping someone would return to give him guidance.

As the sun rose again on the new day, Eamden still sat there on the ground. Fearful of what was to come. The silence was broken by a light whining sound coming from Rynd, who stood a few feet away. A hunter could form such a close bond with his pet that they could _feel_ how the other was feeling. And just as Eamden was feeling uncertain and afraid, Rynd seemed to immediately pick up on it. The hunter knew it was time to stop following and to start forging his own path. He would be the one to make a difference. To end the marauders, and to help bring peace to the people of Stormwind. He got up and grabbed his few possessions. Rynd followed Eamden, as he sprinted into the woods, towards the place he discovered his father, and his future.

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Eamden told Rynd to stay outside, as he waded through the water and down into the heart of the cave. The hunter came this place at least once a year, to visit his parent's graves, and pay his respects. Never had it occurred to him that he would have to leave the forest, and all the people and places he had grown accustomed to.

Remembering Aneren's last words, Eamden approached the chest. The heavy lid opened with a moan to reveal what had already been in there. One bag of gold coins which never seemed to have a use for Eamden until now. As he picked up the small bag out of the chest, it revealed a large, gaping crack right under it.

Eamden didn't think much about it until he was about to close the lid. The crack that had formed at the bottom of the chest was dark. No dirt or grass, where it should be at the bottom, just darkness. With new found curiosity, Eamden pried away the cracked parts of floor, and then hacked away at the solid parts with his hatchet.

The chest's floor which only revealed a crack before, had been excavated into an entire hidden compartment under the chest. The compartment held three items, and a newly written on parchment. Eamden picked up the parchment and read it.

_ Eamden, I knew you'd find this. The three items included here are my last and most treasured possessions. A bow made by one of the best bowyers of our kin. A quiver your father used for all of his battles, and up until his last breath. And, finally my old journal. In it I've recorded just about all of my encounters, and routes I've taken. These items I now leave to you. You may see these things as plain and ordinary, but they may just be waiting for you to unlock their true potential….._

_Aneren OwlSong, Protector of the Alliance_

Eamden folded the note carefully and put it in his pocket. He was about to open the sack that lay before him, when all of a sudden a thought flashed into his head. "It's almost noon!"

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Rynd sat at the water's edge patiently. The ghostly white wolf, didn't like to be far from his master, but nevertheless he would stay where he was until the night elf returned.

Just as things began to quiet down, a noise began to resonate loudly out of the tunnel. Rynd sat up, happily wagged his tail, and barked loudly as Eamden thundered out of the cave. A large un-opened sack was thrown over his back, and his face had a look of urgency. Rynd tilted his head quizzically, as Eamden splashed clumsily through the water, and back to the shore.

There would be no time for a happy reunion, as Eamden cried for Rynd to follow him. The wolf followed quickly, and matched his pace effortlessly. As the two weaved in between the trees, over the hills and through the streams, Rynd could already tell where they were headed. The coast. He could smell the fish, and saltwater, and hear the seagulls, way before he could see any of it.

Quickly after they arrived at a village entrance. Rynd noticed a large tear in the sack, but was only able to catch a glance as the hunter quickly sprinted towards the docks. As they ran a loud bell rang out. Followed by a voice. "Now heading for Westfall. Last call for Westfall!"

Eamden's ran even faster toward the docks, and Rynd followed beside him. When the two finally reached the dock's the ship's sails were already beginning to catch the wind, and it lurched slightly forward, picking up a little speed.

Eamden yelled to the men on the ship, and Rynd barked loudly, trying to get their attention. As they reached the end a blunt noise came from behind them. It was light, and only Rynd heard it. The wolf didn't know what it was, but it had obviously fallen out of the sack. Eamden ran on ahead as Rynd turned around to retrieve the fallen item…

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Eamden ran as fast as his legs could carry him. He knew when he reached the edge of the dock he would have to jump, but it was no problem. He cleared the distance easily in one graceful leap. As he caught his breath, he expected to see Rynd standing next to him as always, but when he was nowhere to be found Eamden shot up and looked at the dock. The wolf was running after him, with an old book clamped tightly in his jaws. _Aneren's Journal….._

"Stop the boat!" the elf yelled. "Please, wait!"

"The boat doesn't wait for anyone!" A man called. "We're on a very tight schedule!"

The boat had already pulled away to twice as long as Eamden had jumped, and was still getting farther. Rynd was making a mad dash down the dock towards Eamden, who called urgently out him.

"C'mon ,Rynd! Jump, boy, Jump!" Eamden cried out to his companion, who had nearly reached the end of the dock.

Rynd leaped with full force, just as the boat began to move forward. The wolf collided with the deck, and franticly tried to pull himself up before slipping down into the water. Luckily, Eamden was ready, and hauled his companion onboard. As soon as all four of his paws touched the deck, Rynd dropped the book, and happily licked Eamden's face.

Eamden laughed, relieved that Rynd and the journal were safe. "Good boy!" He praised, affectionately. "Very good, boy…."

As the hunter watched the Night Elf lands shrink away, he was surprised by the excitement bubbling inside of him. He would finally see those distant lands he only heard of in stories, and fight the evil that encroached upon them. He would protect these foreign lands with all his might, just like Aneren, and his father, before him…

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Thanks for reading guys! the more feedback I get the better, and sooner the next chapter will be!


	5. Boarded

Thanks for the reviews RDF-73, and Nara Bluestar!

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Eamden was about to ask where the captain was, When a large brutish, man approached him.

"What are ye doin' up here?" the man said in a rough, garbled tone. "You en't part of the crew so I'll be expectin' ya tah head below deck."

"Uh, Okay. Thanks." Eamden said, having slight trouble understanding the sailor's guttural common.

He and Rynd were only able to take a few steps before the man called them back. "Wait just a secon' there Elf!" He yelled. He pointed a large, dirty finger at Rynd. "No pets in the passenger quarters. He'll have tah stay in the storage room!"

"But he's very well behaved, and he won't make a mess, you can take my word for it!" The elf said, hoping to convince the sailor.

"Hmm." He said, hand tugging thoughtfully at his short beard. "Lemme think about it…."

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Eamden sat quietly in the ship's storage room, while Rynd happily gnawed on a tough piece of dried meat. A lantern flickered on top of one of the food barrels, creating a dim area of light around the two. The hunter felt like he was going to go insane with boredom, when he suddenly remembered the items Aneren had left him. Except for a glimpse at the journal he hadn't seen anything else.

He found the brown sack sitting next to his pack, bow and quiver. He quickly snatched it up, and placed it next him. He opened it and reached in to pulled out a large quiver, and then reflex bow. Both were stunningly made, and looked like they were in pristine condition. Eamden, noticed that both the quiver and bow, were carved with strange, and intricate designs. It was an unusual design for a night elf bow, he had never seen anything like them before.

He placed the bow down gently, and examined the quiver more closely. It had a lid on the top to protect the arrows inside, and as Eamden tried to open the lid, it wouldn't budge. He pulled even harder, but it felt like The quiver was made of steel. The hunter let go in a tired gasp, and tossed the quiver aside. It was bound by very strong magic, which rendered it nearly useless.

"Why would Aneren leave me a quiver I can't even use?" He asked, leering bitterly at the quiver.

Eamden finally brought his attention to the Aneren's old journal, which laid peacefully near Rynd.

"I'm sure Aneren wrote a few pages about Westfall in here." Eamden said, as he picked up the book.

He made himself comfortable under the lantern's light and began to read from first page…

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Eamden had meant to skim through the book until he had reached the part where he was looking for, but as soon as he read the first few words, he couldn't stop. The hours evaporated into thin air, as he read of Aneren's adventures, discoveries, and battles throughout Kalimdor. It was about half way into the book's pages that the young hunter found what he was looking for. He began reading with renewed vigor…

…_.Our ships anchored as close as they could to Westfall's shores without damaging the hulls on the reef. Silmarith and I, and a few men, paddled a small boat to the sandy shore. One of the warriors asked what we were doing here, and why we were so far from our home. The same question's were going through my mind, but Silmarith quelled them, saying it was a request of the Alliance to scout out this land under suspicion of hiding Horde soldiers. He also added that it was our chance to show the other Alliance members our good will, and intentions….I hope we find nothing, for it does not bode well to anyone who's enemies are right outside their gates…._

…_.I took only a few steps on the shore before making my first discovery. It was a small creature with a fish-like body, and thin limbs. It's skin was coated with scales and slime, and in it's small hand was a rusted blade. Upon seeing us the creature let out a loud gurgling noise, and ran off. A few of us laughed. It was an odd looking thing…._

…_.The treacherous cliffs on the shore looked like a dangerous climb, but Silmarith's pet, Nolan, discovered an easier path hidden in the rocks. It was just wide enough for us to walk in a line, but much preferred to testing ourselves against the cliffs. I was not sure what to expect when I would reach the top, but when I did I was relieved…._

…_.Green rolling hills lay before me, and farms dotted the land . Unfamiliar creatures grazed contently in the fields, while farmers tended to their crop. Everything seemed perfectly in order, until a young man, approached us. There was panic in his eyes, and blood on his hands. We let him catch his breath before he spoke…._

…_.He told us things that darkened our spirits. His name was Fen, and he had fled from a town called Moonbrook three days ago. It had been seized by thieves called the "Defias Bandits", who were using it to hide an army of Orcs! There was only one thing we knew to do, we had to attack now while our presence had yet to be noticed. I tied a note to Serlias' leg, and sent her to fly back to the ships. Our fighting force would join us when the night sky will keep us hidden. I hope there are no complications…._

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Eamden was about to turn the page when he heard yelling up above, followed by a rough stop. He and Rynd simultaneously raised their heads at the commotion. Eamden had never been at sea, or had previous dealings with sailors. "Maybe it was a normal part of sailing a ship." He thought to himself as he turned to Rynd, who tilted his head and let out a whine of suspicion.

"Let's go look boy. I'm sure it's nothing out of the ordinary." the hunter said, more to himself than to Rynd. He grabbed his weapons and walked up the rickety stairs. As he neared the top, he felt footsteps loudly stampede out onto the deck.

When he peaked his head out into the open night, he discovered the crew and a few curious passengers had grouped together at the deck. They were facing a large ship that had anchored next to them. Eamden could tell the ships purpose by the many cannons that protruded from it's side.

Men and Goblins alike had quickly boarded the smaller ship. One of the men, a flamboyantly dressed buccaneer, presumably the captain. A woman from the group calmly approached him, arms outstretched to show no ill-intent.

They each stood with their respective forces behind them. This unknown captain with his bloodthirsty pirates, and this young woman with her hardened sailors. Each eyed each other for a moment before the woman spoke.

"I'm assumin' yer pirates, eh?" she said with a smirk.

The captain pulled off his hat, and took a deep bow. "At your service." he said with a raspy voice, and toothy, yellow grin. The men behind him chuckled loudly, to which the woman didn't flinch.

"Not very smart pirates are ya?" She said. The men silenced. "I don't know any pirate that chooses ta' board a ship with no plunder. Every ship in these waters knows that "passenger" ships only carry passengers." She said mockingly, to which of few pirates grew angered.

The captain smoothly placed the wide brimmed hat back on his head, and motioned for his men to quiet. "Well, not a lot of Stormwind soldiers patrollin' these waters lately. That leaves most any ship in my book as fair game, and I think you're the only foolish one here m'lady. Only a man with a death wish sails these waters without any valuables, to "donate" to our noble cause!" His men laughed raucously with their captain.

She drew her cutlass and held it out threateningly. "Well, I'm sorry to be disappointin' ya, but you won't find any of that here, so why not be gone, and plunder the next treasure-less ship that comes along."

"I don't think so, m'lady. I can't have a bunch of seadogs like yourselves tellin' everyone where we be hidin'. The creatures of the deep'll feast on yer corpses tonight…" At that moment every pirate tore out there weapons, and prepared to attack.

Eamden who had been listening the entire time, pulled an arrow from his quiver. He aimed it with masterful precision and fired. The pirate captain, who was about to attack, only had time to turn his head in the direction of the arrow as it lodged itself in his skull.

The ship was dead silent as his body lifelessly dropped to the floor, and lay in it's own blood. But as quiet as it was one moment, the next it exploded into a heated battle. The better armed pirates squared off against the more numerous sailors. Eamden calmly fired an arrow into the chest of a pirate who tried to get close enough to run him through with his sword. He crumpled to the floor, dead.

The hunter strung another arrow in time to see a man aim a long pole at him. He rolled to the side as an explosion sounded from within the end. It propelled out a small metal ball, which tore through the area he had just occupied.

"Damn!" the man cursed, as he quickly began to load another metal ball. Eamden was about to take aim when he saw Rynd run at full speed towards his assailant. The man let out a cry of surprise, and was quickly dispatched as the wolf's jaws clamped on his throat. Eamden turned and saw two pirates rush at him. One was a man, and the other a goblin. He released the arrow he was holding, and watched it punch head on into the goblin's gut, causing him to fly back a few feet. Eamden slung his bow, and pulled out his axe and dagger to fight him up close. The pirate slashed angrily with his sword but the elf leaned back, dodging it's metal edge by less than a foot. The hunter then blocked his second swing with his axe, and stepped in close to stab the dagger deep into the base of his neck. Deep crimson blood spurted from the man's fatal wound. He made a few gurgled sounds before being dispatched with an axe blow to his head. Eamden looked around searching for anymore pirates, but they had all begun to retreat as their numbers continued to drop.

As a few brave sailors tried to follow the pirates back to their ship, they were shot into the freezing waters by goblins carrying more long poles. This was followed by a yell. "They're aiming the cannons!" A sailor yelled, who spotted the large guns swiveling below.

"Those cannons'll tear right through us! Hoist anchor, it's now or never boys!" The same woman from before yelled.

The men quickly abandoned their fighting and sprinted to their stations, trying to escape the coming fire. Eamden stood unsure what to do, when from the other ship, a goblin peaked his wicked looking head over the rail. With a sneer he tossed an object onto the other deck. A large bundle of lit candles rolled to Eamden's feet. He picked it up and examined it, unsure why the goblin would throw such a thing..

"What the hell are ya doin'?! The large sailor from before yelled over the other men. "Throw it back!"

Eamden was unsure about what this device would do, but took the man's advice. He ran to where the two ships met and peered down. Spotting an open window in the side where a cannon was absent. With a light throw he tossed the candles back into the other ship. He heard a few screams of terror, before the ship suddenly erupted in flames. Eamden cried out in surprise and was knocked back violently from the force of the blast. His ears were filled with a piercing ring that blotted out all other sounds. He looked in the air, from his back, as debris flew over head, along with the bodies of a few pirates. The young hunter's vision quickly blacked out…

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Eamden awoke lying in the middle of the desert, The full moon hung quietly overhead, and the scarred wolf sat from a distance away. His tail slowly whipped from side to side, and his yellow eyes peered at him through the darkness.

"Who are you?" Eamden demanded to know, rising to his feet. He remembered this dream before as if it were yesterday.

"Hello my son." A voice echoed through Eamden's head. "Do you remember me?"

"Father?" Eamden asked, before shaking his head. "No. You're dead you can't be him." He said simply.

The wolf continued to sit pensively. "Believe it Eamden. I may have passed on but I'm no illusion. I've been watching over you from the other side, since you were a child. You've grown into a fine elf!"

Eamden stood, still weary. "If you've been watching me, then why have you come? Why now?"

"I come bearing only a warning. I have seen your future, and it will not be an easy one. There are many hardships ahead that will test, not only your abilities, but your judgment. These foreign lands are very different to the ones of our people, Eamden."

The hunter creased his brow. "What's going to happen?"

"I cannot tell you." Silmarith dismissed. "But have heart, and know that you'll have friends to help you when the fire rages."

Eamden was about to open his mouth when all of a sudden, a harsh wind began to kick up sand. He brought his hand up to protect his eyes from the buffeting sand.

"Wake up, my son." The voice said, weaker, as if it was distant.

"Wait!" Eamden called out to no avail. His dream world had begun to disintegrate.

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Eamden awoke to a wet tongue brushing gently against his face. He opened his eyes to a pair of yellow ones that were looking back down at him.

He nudged the wolf's heavy frame off from on top of him, with a groan. "You're not a pup anymore Rynd."

The wolf disregarded the statement and happily stared at him, waiting until Eamden needed him.

The young hunter looked around the room to see that it was nothing like the storage room. In fact it was a bedroom, with an open window that let in the salty air, and a fresh meal left for him on a small stool.

"Well this is surprising." Eamden concluded with a nod. He was about to get to the bottom of this, when he heard a hard rap on his door.

The person didn't wait for an answer and stepped inside. It was the woman from before who lead the fight against the pirates. She had a surprised look on her face. "I didn't expect ya ta up on yer feet so quickly, night elf."

"What do you mean?" He asked.

"You been asleep fer 3 days. The crew was certain you'd never wake up!" She said with a joking grin.

"3 days!?" Eamden yelled in surprise. "Did we pass Westfall?!"

"Hmm…" She mumbled, much to the elf's fear. "Should be reaching' there in about'n hour. Maybe less."

"Thanks!" he said, before rushing out. Rynd hopped off of the bed and darted out of the room after him. Eamden was relieved, but there was no time to lose. The Eastern Kingdom was close. Very close...

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I need a small break to try and focus on my other story, but I'm not forgetting about this one! (Reviews will help this story along, so just drop a comment and I promise to reply!)


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